


heartbreak warfare

by sadonsundays



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Flashback, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadonsundays/pseuds/sadonsundays
Summary: There’s dried blood on his hand.He doesn’t look at it. All he sees is Carrillo.





	heartbreak warfare

There’s dried blood on his hand.

He doesn’t look at it. All he sees is Carrillo.

He steps into his space, sharing his breath.

He needs his body heat, his warmth. Some semblance of comfort as his heart frantically bangs away at its cage of ribs.

“Fuck, I—so many men—“

“Javi,” Carrillo whispers, barely concealed fear edging his tone, “I know—I know—“

Pena places his hands on Carrillo’s hips, gripping them hard as he pushes them back into the wall. 

He looks into Carrillo’s eyes. They’re wet.

“Come here, Javier, come—“

Pena moves even closer, wishing hysterically that he could mold himself to this man, attach their bodies as surely as their souls—that’s how badly he needs him, needs to feel him. 

He’s infuriated. He can’t focus. He wants skin under his hand—wants to mark it. Maybe burn it. 

Make it hurt. 

He grinds into Carrillo, bites down hard into his army green bulletproof vest.

Carrillo’s hips shoot forward, a weakened groan escaping his mouth. 

“Fuck me,” Pena snarls, “fuck me, fuck—“

He’s never been so angry. He curls his hand into a fist, punches it into the wall next to Carrillo’s head. 

“Javi, don’t—“

Pena doesn’t even feel the pain, numb in his shock. A familiar state of mind.

He brings his other hand to Carrillo’s throat, gripping it gently, a tender caress. 

“Javi,” Carrillo breathes, bringing his hands up to Pena’s face.

They stare at each other, breathing heavily. 

There’s red on Carrillo’s cheek, smeared with dirt.

Their team has been bested.

Again.

Twelve of their men lost their lives and for what? 

Escobar disappeared likely right before they arrived— water through their fingers. 

The goddamn oven was still on in the kitchen. 

Steve used to call Escobar a ghost but.

He‘s more of a shadow at this point. Only some people see ghosts, but everyone sees shadows. 

Escobar’s always within view, but never within reach. 

Pena pushes Carrillo’s body heavily against the wall, anchoring him to the concrete. 

“Javi—“

Pena kisses him, ignoring the damp tracks sliding down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Anyone left alive went home. It’s just the two of them. 

Not even Steve stayed behind. Too shaken. 

Pena bites Carrillo’s lip, hard and unforgiving.

Steve knows everything about his partner but he doesn’t know about this. He can’t.

No one can.

Carrillo bites back before licking into his mouth, hungry and grief-stricken and lost—

Just lost.

Their mouths break apart. Carrillo grabs his hand, holding it with a tenderness that would break Javi’s heart if there was any left to break. 

“You’re shaking.”

For the first time since the hunt for Pablo began, for the first time in years—Pena is terrified. 

Even when Steve got snatched he still felt like he was on solid ground. 

Now he’s in free fall.

They kiss again, wet and tense. 

Carrillo kisses the corner of his mouth, moving towards the salty tear tracks with delicate, gentle pecks. 

Pena thought he might not be capable of love but this. 

This is love. 

Him and Carrillo have never spoken about it. 

In the beginning, years previous, Carrillo, in his guilt, blew Pena off completely—a married man, after all. And Pena, a proudly active sexual deviant, let it go.

He’d get laid elsewhere. 

It was okay for a while. 

Until death became an ever persistent presence between them.

It’s easy to forget boundaries when they operate in a land without them. 

The first time happened when they were alone on a stake out. Carrillo was quickly moving up in rank, not accompanying Pena out as often anymore.

So Pena was already pissed off. Feeling insecure like some needy, lonely boy who grew up without friends.

“Aren’t you glad I’m here?” Carrillo asked, aiming for a tease but coming off strained.

Pena didn’t answer. Just sat back and smoked his cigarette—watched as the smoke floated away into the Columbian heat.

“Javier—“

“Don’t call me that,” Pena snapped, kicking his leg against the dash.

He wanted to fight. Or maybe he wanted to fuck. 

Nothing was happening and it was quickly becoming apparent that the tip they’d received was somehow miscalculated. 

No one had shown up in the half hour they’d been there.

Livid, Pena stormed out of the car, walking towards a cliff not far down the road.

Ahead, the lights of the city glittered in the most beautiful display.

“Hey,” Carrillo called, slamming his door harder than necessary. 

Pena ignored him.

Carrillo wouldn’t accept that.

Pena picked up speed as he heard footsteps crunch on the gravel behind him but he was no match for Carrillo. 

Pena thought of his body, of how strong he was.

He picked up the pace as his heart raced uncontrollably.

When Carrillo reached him they stumbled together in a fall, hitting the ground so hard Pena had the wind knocked right out of him. 

Carrillo pinned him to the dust, licking the sweat off of his upper lip, pulling Pena’s hair so hard he arched off the ground.

“Are you going to fight me?” Carrillo panted, pushing a thigh between his legs.

Pena couldn’t. 

Instead he moaned for him, begged for him. 

“Please—Horacio, please—“

When the man he so fiercely longed for brought him to his knees, pride became a foreign concept.

And when they fucked—eager and delirious—against the jeep not long after, Pena couldn’t be further from embarrassed.

Later, as the pink sun rose over the green mountains and they shared a smoke atop the hood, Carrillo whispered, “Don’t ever walk away from me again, Javier.”

Pena wraps his arms around Carrillo, needing his heartbeat against his own like an addict Pablo’s cronies cater to. 

“I can’t lose you,” he confesses, words shaky. 

He swallows. His throat is dry. 

He closes his sore, tired eyes.

Carrillo should say, “You won’t.”

But he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep—

So he doesn’t. 

For now, all he can do is keep Javier close. 

“I’m here,” Carrillo whispers, “I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> i just rematched the first 3 seasons and these two--i can't believe how much i missed the first time around. if you're looking to ugly cry and just can't find the proper inspiration, LET ME TELL YOU, the tragedy of javi and horacio should work just fine. talk to me, tell me what you thought in the comments


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